Reconstruction
by Zymm
Summary: After Professor Xavier's sudden, mysterious death, the remaining members of the X-Men (and a few outsiders) must manage the growing Institute, combat the new threat to mutantkind, and- most importantly- reconstruct the X-Men into the heroic team it once was.
1. Chapter 1

St. John Allerdyce was growing more irritated every passing day.

He had a bug, a small breech eating away at him, simply devouring his sanity. It was a nudge in the back of his mind, the feeling of fingers gently prying. There were times he'd be walking and then suddenly his mind was elsewhere, his body still frozen in his past action, completely in auto-pilot. By the time he'd yanked himself back in his body, he was halfway through pouring milk into cereal, or shrugging on clothes. It was strangely intimate, and not pleasant in the least bit.

He was being infiltrated, his mind sought out by one of the mutant telepaths.

It infuriated him.

John had spent years trying to separate himself from any of them, completely distancing himself from any mutant he even caught whiff of. So to have them forcing themselves back- quite rudely, he may add- was more than just a little irritation. He'd already burnt down half his apartment in a fiery fit of rage, his temper getting the better of him. He was now the proud owner of an already shitty apartment, now made shittier thanks to some mutant god knows where.

He pushed, just like Mystique had taught him once. He'd sat in the middle of his dingy living room, between the moth-eaten loveseat and the broken couch, and pushed. He felt the presence there, like fingers poking into his memories, his thoughts, his feelings. He pushed.

And it recoiled, seemingly shocked at his actions.

John smirked- he hoped that was just as unpleasant for them as it had been for him.

He lit up a cigarette in shaky celebration, cross-legged in the floor of his apartment.

Work was work.

It wasn't a bad job he'd gotten himself into- it paid the bills (barely), but left him time to do things he actually liked to do. Occasionally burning down an abandoned building wasn't a malicious past-time, John assured himself. If anything, it was an amazing form of therapy that kept him from setting customers at work on fire.

That was the not great part of work- the customers. He was a male bartender, which wasn't the best gig overall. It was one of the few times John wished he was a chick, and a hot one at that. It was really a great exercise in self-control, one that John was almost happy to fail, repeatedly.

But hey, there were still the occasional single chicks that would show up and flirt shamelessly with him. He wasn't a bad looking guy by any means, and he kept up a figure. The tips were nice, and much appreciated. He didn't bring them home often, but when he did it was a disappointment, if he were being completely honest with himself. He usually wasn't.

But that was an issue for another time.

Work was work. And John trudged through it, hoping that someday it would all miraculously give him a purpose, something outside of mutantkind and the Brotherhood and the X-Men and whatever new organizations have decided to plague the Earth. He wasn't ever going to give up his powers, he knew that much. It was too much of a drug, too exhilarating and powerful for him to ever be without. But the mutant world and all of their damn sides had given him enough shit for a lifetime.

Work was work, but this time it was something else.

If John would've known how that shift played out, he would never of came. He'd of burnt down his apartment, along with everything in it, and moved across the country. Maybe even the border, he mused afterwards. Any way to escape.

But, unlike some people he'd had the pleasure of meeting, St. John Allerdyce could not see the future.

So he started his shift like it were any other, clocking in exactly eight minutes late just to give the nice old middle finger to his boss. He was forty-something, sleazy, and had some name that screamed druggie. John couldn't even remember.

He started cleaning the counter, which was already a damn mess from the last employee's shift. John sighed, running a hand through his sandy hair- he could already feel how much this shift would suck. The broken glasses just felt like a bad omen.

And sure enough, it all came to a point sometime after 1 AM.

The place was packed, people everywhere. Some loud rap song was playing, the bass practically ripping the headache out of John's head. The lights were low and sultry, and the people were loud and stupid.

John occasionally allowed himself to check out the goods around him- why not? It's not like he'd make a move unless they did first. The chase had become so boring to him in the long run. But sometimes he'd find a girl just what he was looking for- short, petite, long brown locks and golden-brown eyes. It was a disease, really, and half the time he fought with wanting to both screw and strangle that type. He hated that type.

And this type had been no different- she'd caught his eyes from across the club, looking like a dancing, writhing vision. She was in the shortest little black dress, her legs long and pale, yet her body petite and small. Her long, wavy hair swayed behind her as she moved, a pretty brown color, and John squinted his eyes at her. Just his type, a perfect example.

Then she turned, and he felt time stop for a second.

It wasn't just some drunk college girl. It was someone he knew way too painfully well, someone he'd hoped was either dead or amnesiac somewhere, no recollection of the past.

John had seen quite enough of Kitty Pryde in this lifetime.

She made eye-contact with him, pursing her lips despite herself, and John could feel the disgust from across the room.

Good, he thought.

He gave the widest shit-eat grin from across the room, hoping it was like a neon middle finger, right in her face.

"Can I get a water, please?"

His back was to her, facing the wall of perfectly-displayed glasses, and he rolled his eyes, his mouth agape despite himself. Kitty Pryde would order a water at a bar, of course. Such a brilliant contradiction, she was- so seemingly in charge of her life, when in fact it was a mess.

"You're in a bar." John growled, not even making eye-contact with her, and especially not looking at the way the low-cut dress displayed her assets. Definitely not looking there. He would never.

"I have self-control." Kitty shot back seamlessly, clearly insinuating that John lacked that attribute. John laughed loudly, cruelly.

"We both know that's not true." John chuckled, waiting for her flawless features to turn an appeasing shade of pink, the perfect image of youthful innocence. He'd seen that image so many times it was burned into his brain.

But she didn't; her face remained clear and unreadable.

"I'd like to talk to you, Pyro." Kitty said calmly, folding her hands in front of her, fixing him cooly with her golden eyes, just like a cat stalking her prey.

"That's not my name." John replied.

"I'll call you by your name when you give me reason to." She said, and he hated the fact that it stung, hitting him hard. He wasn't Pyro, never would be again. That was a different person, from a different life.

"Leave me alone." John said, his voice barely more than a growl, leaning across the counter to address her closely. A few customers around them looked around nervously, unsure of whether to intervene or not. Kitty stared him down cooly, not flinching or moving an inch, standing her ground.

"Are you not curious? I wouldn't see you again unless it were on dire circumstances, you know that."

She had a point, and he hated thinking that she was right. He hated when she was right.

John bit the inside of his cheek, thinking hard; he could leave, right now. He could leave this bar without even quitting, just pack up and move somewhere else. He knew Kitty wouldn't follow him- her distaste for him was apparent even now, and he knew that her pride was strong. She wouldn't give him a second chance.

And with how they'd been left off last time- let's just say that it's a damn miracle anyone could ever convince her to see him face to face again.

He left the bar a few minutes later, without a second word to his coworkers or boss. He didn't care about them, and he sure as hell didn't care about the bar. He was going to burn his apartment down until it couldn't be traced to him, and then he'd find a new place to live. He was thinking Phoenix this time, some place hot and sweltering and someplace Kitty would absolutely hate.

But first he had to listen to her, because the curiosity would destroy him if he didn't.

John found her in a little alleyway, the dingy one separating the bar from the seedy motel next door. She was leaning against the wall, lean and agile as a cat, her head resting against the brick wall, her eyes closed.

She'd changed so much seen he'd last seen her.

It hadn't been forever ago- just five or so years. But it was enough for her to change from a teenager to a young woman, and change it was. She'd been beautiful before, but now she was simply stunning, slender but curvy in all the places John couldn't help but take extensive note of. Her face was more slanted and womanly. John would've been lying if he said he hadn't read a few of the shitty tabloids that followed the X-Men like a hawk; and they'd been right when they praised Kitty's model-like looks. He hated her, especially for how perfect she seemed. She was not perfect, he knew, and he wanted her to know that, as well.

Kitty barely even cracked an eye as he approached, seemingly at complete ease.

"Speak, then." John said, scowling at her. He'd let his hair grow a little longer, letting the shaggy blonde ends cover part of his face, shade some of his vision. In times like this, when he felt stupidly vulnerable, it helped.

Kitty wasted no time.

"There's an opening on the team, and we need it filled. We can't afford to not have a full team with all that's going on." Kitty said, narrowing his eyes at him while she talked, daring him. "We have an assistant professor position open, too- English Literature and English Language."

John was surprised, to say the least; he couldn't help but give a brutish laugh, his eyebrows raised. He was flabbergasted.

"You want me on the team?" John asked incredulously, laughing in her face. Kitty was not amused; she pushed herself off the wall, a glare still on her pretty features.

"It's not about what I want, obviously." Kitty shot back, a biting voice. Her eyes were on fire, lit with disgust. John loved it- he fed off of it, the hatred others had for him. It was just another factor pushing him to poke and prod, to cause trouble. It was a problem, really, but entirely too fun.

"Come on, Kitty-cat." John said, a wolfish smirk on his face as he took a step towards her, hoping to intimidate her. Kitty didn't budge, except to bristle slightly at the nickname; she was so small compared to him, her chin not even quite reaching the top of his shoulders. But she still stood as if she were seven feet tall, towering over John.

"Are you absolutely sure you don't want me there?" He teased, but the grin had left his features. Their eyes were locked, a challenge shared between them. Neither moved away from each other, just a few inches apart. She stared him down, quite a ferocious look.

"It must get a little lonely." John poked, letting his hand rest on her hip, amazed she didn't punch him or move away. She didn't even budge, not even batting an eye. Oh, her challenging gaze was simply infectious.

"Empty bed and whatnot…" He pressed on, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand had slid down, touching bare, soft leg. It burned him, a shock to his body, but he continued, pushing up above the edge of her dress, waiting for her reaction. Kitty simply stared back at him, but he swore he saw her mouth part slightly, subconsciously telling him not to stop.

Instead, he got a completely different reaction.

A fiery shard of energy shot past him, narrowly missing his nose; his hand shot back to his body, his face an humorous expression of complete confusion.

"What the-"

"Pleasure to meet you, St. John Allerdyce." A voice said, belonging to a tall man that appeared seemingly from thin air. He was about John's height, but dressed impeccably in a dark suit; he had a pair of dark sunglasses on, but his handsome features were still apparent, down to the sharp lines of his face. He seemed to be the owner of the hot flash that had almost flayed John, if his fiery fingertips were any indication.

But John noticed the protective arm he had around Kitty, his normal hand stroking absentmindedly at the bare skin of her collarbone. He looked away immediately, feeling his stomach burn.

"I'm Pete Wisdom, one of the new professors at the school." He said, his face holding a strained, fake smile. And god, his voice- it was so British, so haughty, it made John want to rip out his own eardrums, and then shove it down this asshole's throat. He scowled instead, much more civil than his previous option.

"Of course you are." John responded.

"We'd best get going, Kitty." Wisdom said, pulling the woman towards him. She kept her eyes locked on John, the disgust still present- but the corner of her mouth curved upwards. She thought this was funny, John realized with a shock of anger.

"We both have 8 am lectures tomorrow, after all." Wisdom said cheekily. He glared back at John, matching his angry look with one just as irritated.

"It was wonderful meeting you, John." Wisdom told him, his voice suggesting quite the opposite. "But we must get going."

"Of course." John said through gritted teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching. He hated this- he knew Kitty and Wisdom both wanted that response, that anger from him, but he couldn't help him. She brought out the worst in him.

And Wisdom led her off, his arm still around her, some pompous jackass move of claiming his territory.

John seethed.

"I don't like him, and I think he would be the worst possible choice for the team."

Pete Wisdom didn't have to repeat his sentiment- hell, he barely had to actually say it outloud. It was obvious that his passenger thought the same exact thing, if not even more than him.

Kitty Pryde was on fire, her teeth still gritted and grinding, her nails creating little half crescents into her palms. She was so upset she'd even phased through the door of Pete's expensive car. He'd thrown a mini fit.

"You could've ruined it, Kit!" He complained; she suspected he was just taking out his rage on the John situation out on her, and she didn't blame him.

She hadn't seen John in so long. He was so different now- taller, more muscular, his features more chiseled and his hair longer. He still had that damn boyish quality, that devilish look in his eyes. But oh, did he despise her, just as much as she did him.

And the skin where he'd touched her, his large hand sliding up her thigh- it burned still, the places where his finger tips grazed. She could feel it still, and it set her even more on fire.

"Pete," Kitty said, low and husky, and she reached out a hand to lightly cup his jawline. He hesitated in his driving, moving slightly to graze his lips over her open palm lovingly.

"You looked gorgeous tonight, Kit." He said, a grin on his lips as he parked the vehicle. He took the dark sunglasses off his eyes, revealing the bright blue they were hiding. Kitty grinned back despite herself, even though she still felt bothered deep down, her thigh still burning from another mutant's touch.

"Looked? I haven't changed." Kitty pouted, gracefully moving from her seat to straddle her boyfriend's lap, pursing her bottom lip. He followed her moves like a hawk.

"I love you." Pete said with a fiendish grin before she captured his lips, wasting little time. She moaned back in approval, her hands tangling in his inky hair. His hand slipped to her back, pushing, arching her into him. It slid further down, taking the same path John had attempted earlier.

It felt like ice on her skin.

He was in the process of walking home, burning every little thing he found in his path.

John rarely took out the emergency Zippo he took to work, but today was different. Everything was different now. Nothing of this old life mattered.

It was time to make a new one. And it was going to be even hotter than Phoenix, he had decided. It was going to be Mexico, Panama, Ecuador. Someplace sweltering. Someplace Kitty would absolutely despise.

Just like him.

He was almost to his apartment when he felt it again, those fingers in his mind.

Not now, he thought angrily, but his mind was a mess, his emotions just a messy, fiery accident. He couldn't compose himself enough to fight.

My, my. You're angry.

John stopped in his tracks, his blood going cold.

It never talked before. And the feminine, icy voice was impossible not to place.

I see Kitty couldn't accomplish a simple task yet again.

Emma Frost.

John was screwed, monumentally so.

I suppose she didn't tell you I work with them now, the group Xavier started. Before he died, obviously.

God, John thought, was anything sacred anymore? The mutant world had gone completely to hell since he'd left it. What was next? Wolverine screwing Magneto? Squirrel-girl beating Storm? Xavier actually being able to walk?

Ha. The last one was actually humorous.

Glad you thought so, bitch.

The position Kitty informed you on is still open, and graciously extended to you.

Rot in hell.

They're looking for you, John.

He stopped in his warpath, bristling despite the calmness in her tone.

The Brotherhood, specifically. But also those with more cruel purposes. You're one of a kind, John, and you know that. If they could harness your power, take it from you, it would be a shame.

I can hold my own, he thought, though he felt the doubt in there, and he knew she saw it, fed off of it.

Not against these people, John.

He didn't respond, thoughts running through his mind.

Our offer still stands, John. You're smarter than you seem, and you know this is the wisest decision. We offer safety and a future beyond running.

Pete grumbled out a lazy welcome to his bedmate, pulling her form closer to him, kissing the back of her neck. She squirmed, giggling and moving out of his grasp despite her urges to stay in bed. It was getting dangerously close to her first class, and the sun had already infiltrated the room they shared.

"I don't want to teach today." Kitty complained, wrapping her blanket around her form as she rolled out of bed, a little shred of modesty still there. "God, I look like I've been hit by the X-plane."

"Nonsense. Though I do think the blanket is unnecessary. Nothing I have seen in great detail, I might add." Pete said cheekily, his accent shining through the faux-gentleman act he loved to adopt.

"Oh, shut it." Kitty said, grinning despite herself. It was going to be a good day, she assured herself- last night had been a trainwreck, reopening wounds she hoped to let heal forever. But it was the past, and she had gladly failed that assignment.

"Yes, technically you could attempt to 'scramble'-as you so kindly put it Jonas- the interface, but it would likely have no changes on the overall-" Kitty explained, before something caught her eye in across the small classroom. It was an intimate class, only ten or so advanced students who showed interest in accelerated technologies. There was a small fireplace in the corner, which had caught Kitty's eye. If she looked closely, she was sure she saw a cat painted by flames.

She shook her head, clearing her mind. She didn't get much sleep last night with Pete, of course. It must've just been that.

"-in the overall program, of course. But if you were to theoretically-"

There. It was definitely a cat. Kitty stopped talking altogether, her mouth agape.

"Oh, is this a bad time?" A familiar, cocky voice said from her doorway. And there was St. John Allerdyce, leaning against the doorframe of her classroom, a wolfish grin on his face. He had swapped his clothes for a dark red dress shirt and black tie, a leather jacket thrown over it- he wasn't going to make some change to a hard-ass professor any time soon.

"Yes, actually, it is." Kitty said stiffly, standing up to her full height instead of casually leaning on her desk as she had been. What an asshole, she thought.

"My bad, kitty-cat." He said, and Kitty heard one of her students gasp. She whipped her head around, pinning the young girl with a traitorous glare. She could've groaned out loud- all of her students were openly watching the exchange like a juicy drama, some even whispering madly between each other.

She could already hear the rumors now.

"I'll come find you when you're alone." John said, winking at her, innuendos dripping off his lips. And with that, his grin doubled, turning around and walking himself down the gorgeous hallways of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, seemingly not a care on his mind.

It was time to turn himself in.


	2. Chapter 2

Ever since he'd came back to the school, everything had been weird.

Logan was used to feeling weird, feeling like an outsider. Hell, that had been the narrative of his life before he came to Xavier's school. Don't get him wrong- he wasn't here to spread fuzzy family feelings and shit, but he'd gotten into the routine, gotten into the swing of things. He liked what he had done- teach kids how to hold their own without their powers, teach them how to be more than just their gifts. It had allowed him to actually be useful, but still be himself.

He wouldn't tell anyone how happy it made him. If he was gonna sit around and tell people his feelings, he may as well slap on a pair of pigtails and call himself Scott Summers.

But it was good. Life was good in that moment.

And then it all went to hell, and Jean died, and he decided that it was time to be himself again. Time to stop being whatever character he'd tried to form himself into.

So he'd left the school without a word, just went on his way, with barely any plan at all. Just like before, all he'd ever known. He wasn't running, Logan assured himself, just going back to his instincts, going back to who he really was. No more playing school.

But now he was back. He didn't dwell on what had happened during his absence, didn't tell anyone what had made him come back. If Xavier were still alive, still there in that school, he would've known immediately. Would've scanned his mind so quickly that Logan wouldn't of even noticed- he maybe wouldn't of even minded. Sometimes, misery was easier shared.

There wasn't Xavier, but there was Ororo.

She was the one waiting at the gate for him, as if she just knew he was coming back. He wondered if she'd sensed him somehow, akin to the way Xavier would always know his immediate arrivals. Logan couldn't begin to understand half the stuff that woman could do- she was completely otherworldly, and completely too good for him.

Yet she'd been there waiting for him; her hair was down around her, floating in some non existent breeze, her eyes closed. Logan had tried his best to be quiet, hoping he could somehow sneak around her and back up to his old room, completely skip the greetings.

"You won't even say hello to an old friend?" Ororo had said smoothly, amusement in her voice but tension underneath, hiding under friendly pretenses. He stiffened up, turning around to face her, like a child caught with one hand in the cookie jar.

"Didn't wanna cause a scene. Already painful enough." Logan had grunted back, shrugging his shoulders best he could, trying to hide whatever emotions had threatened to bubble up inside him.

Ororo smiled, tense but somehow kind. "Welcome back, Logan."

Logan just nodded his head limply, making a noise in response. He shrugged his bag back on his shoulder, and turned to enter the gates, trying to ignore the woman behind him.

But it was difficult. Even though there was Jean, before all of it went to hell, there was also Ororo, pulling like something he knew he shouldn't- couldn't- touch.

Logan pushed it away, ignored the thought. He was back at Xavier's, back where he told himself he was supposed to be. He had gotten into the swing of things again, and it was as if he'd never left. Things had changed- students older, new ones thrown in. The X-Men themselves were just as torn apart and fractured as he felt himself. But they were rebuilding, a new start.

Logan couldn't say he was confident that it was a wise choice. Not after what he'd seen, what he'd experienced when he was away.

The next few days were interesting, to say the least.

St. John Allerdyce's sudden appearance at Xavier's School for the Gifted caused a whirlwind of turmoil, one that had each staff member struggling to put out the flames, so to say. It was a complete, utter mess, if John did say himself, but he was sitting back with a cheeky grin and enjoying every minute of it. It sure beat being lonely in some random town that didn't even mark a map.

The students of the school, the new generation of mutants, ranged in ages from nine to eighteen (with a few exceptions, of course), with a variety of unique, confusing powers. It had changed radically since John had served his few years there- it now had a full basketball court, which he was insanely jealous of and vowed to utilize immediately. It had grown its own greenhouse, a tower with what he'd heard was an impressive telescope with a few alien technologies, and a whole other addition to the Mansion that included rooms he couldn't wait to meddle in. John felt a rush of sentimental love, which immediately disgusted him.

This was still the place he left, the place he vowed never to come back to- but he was different, damnit. John would never admit it to anyone, but he was confused, conflicted, his mind in a torn state. He wasn't sure what was 'right' or 'wrong' anymore, and whether he even wanted to be 'right'. He felt like a passenger in someone else's body right now, making decisions on a whim as they came along, and so he thought he'd at least have fun with it.

And though the X-Mansion had changed extensively, one thing was the same- the mutants, without powers, were just normal teenagers. And that meant they had mouths that loved to gossip and gab about everything.

It was immensely entertaining to John.

He sat around his first English Literature class, cross-legged on his desk, completely at ease with the situation. He'd worn a button-shirt and tie, complete with freakin' slacks, because he at least had to follow the dress code or he'd have Pryde tearing the clothes off him (which wasn't nearly as bad a thought as it should've been). But John had thrown his leather jacket on at the last minute, enjoying how completely out of place it looked. Just according to plan.

His students had filtered in- pretty young, around thirteen or fourteen. A few were obvious mutants, with extreme physical changes. Others not so obvious, seemingly completely normal. But they all eyed him with a bit of terror in their eyes, whispering secrets between their classmates. John grinned wildly.

"Well, I'm St. John Allerdyce, your new professor of English and such. But you can just call me the best goddamn teacher you'll ever have."

A few gaped, one annoying girl gasped loudly, another frowned. Was cursing in the classroom allowed? John sure hoped not.

"As you can see, I brought nothing here to teach you with because learning about words will do you absolutely no good if, say, ole' Juggernaut is trying to bash your brains in." John said cheerily, using his hands to paint a picture in the minds. A few horrified looks stared back at him. Oh, this was golden.

"But for today, I'll just answer any questions you all have for me."

One girl with spunky black hair shot her hand up, seemingly unable to sit still wit all the questions she had planned.

"Yeah, you." John threw a lazy hand in her general direction.

"Are you dating Ms. Pryde?"

"I'm ready to murder him, Logan." Kitty hissed, clenching her fist around her bottle of beer, shaking back her brown locks. She had her legs crossed daintily, a funny contradiction to the beer in her hand and the exercise clothes she still wore. Her crossed leg was twitching, agitated, a tick she'd always had. Logan masked his smile with a swig of his own drink.

They were drinking out on the balcony of his room, at Logan's insistence. They taught the same hand to hand combat class together, and she'd came in like a firecracker today, practically burning the room down with her gaze. After pushing the students harder than she had before, and even intimidating the hell out of Logan, he'd insisted that she cooled down a bit before the evening.

"Well, I don't like having the white bitch around here, either." Logan added, knowing that somewhere the witch was bristling, knowing she was being talked down. But hell, if she picked up every time Logan thought or said something hateful about her, she'd never hear anything but shit.

Kitty snorted.

"Who does? Scott?" Kitty shook her head, glaring off into the expansive backyard of the school. "Only because he's got a warm body in his bed."

"There ain't a damn thing warm about that woman." Logan shot back, glad that he'd been able to change the subject. He'd knew that the kid would bother her, and he was glad to take her mind away from-

"He's spreading rumors that we're still screwing around with each other. I heard some students say that I was in love with him, of all things." Kitty growled, slamming her beer down on the table between them. She clenched and unclenched her fists again, shaking her head. Logan prayed for the poor sod that had ticked her off so.

"They're kids, Kit. He probably just mentioned you two had a past- yeah, I know, not professional to bring up, but he's an ass- and they filled in the blanks." Logan told her, rolling one of his thick cigars through his fingers, contemplating. He hated playing supportive friend- he was bad at it, and it made him feel like he should go paint his freakin' nails or something. But this was Kitty Pryde, a girl he'd taught from the beginning, a girl who made him so proud he couldn't help but beam.

Kitty had missed him when he was gone, and he had missed her. Although Logan painted himself a perfect image of a complete uncaring asshole, he had missed the few people close to him dearly. And now Kit had grown up without him there, now stronger and more powerful, no longer a teenager. Though he wasn't quite sure about Wisdom.

"You're right." Kitty said, surprising him- he hadn't expected her to agree with him so suddenly. A part of him was sad- he really wanted to see her go kick the little flame's ass. "Just the other day, I heard that you and Scott were having an affair."

"No shit?" Logan grunted, raising an eyebrow. "Hell, he didn't even have the decency to tell me we were screwing. I woulda cleaned up a bit."

Kitty laughed despite herself, trying to put the nasty situation behind her.

John found that Kitty was very, very good at avoiding people.

It wasn't a surprise- even back when they were just teenagers, screwing around with the idea of identity and heroes, trying to find their fit in it all, she'd been scary good. She pushed her powers to the edge, finding out how far they'd go, and then she'd pushed herself even further, and last he'd heard she was practically a master in all sorts of combat techniques. And that was still news from years ago, before he left it all behind him.

He could still beat her, he told himself, a bit skeptical, but he quickly pushed that questioning away.

She was always good at blending in with the shadows, phasing silently, and she had somehow gotten even better- John didn't see her in his first few days at all. Yeah, the Mansion was massive and was home to hundreds of kids and a good amount of staff, but Kitty wasn't easily missed.

With the not-so-childlike adoration some male (and female) students had for her, she couldn't go unnoticed by everyone. But was practically nonexistent, in John's time there. It was less fun to poke and prod at a person who wasn't even there.

Hell, John hadn't even met half the staff members that were the main team yet.

There was Ororo, who had been sheltered towards him at first, but quickly resorted to her motherly ways. She'd been watching him like a hawk since he arrived, both to help and scold.

"You've got to teach them, John." Ororo had told him after the first day of classes, arriving in his doorway as he finished moving his few belongings into his personal room. She'd scared him half to death, standing in the doorway as still and quiet as could be. She'd always been that way- warm and loving, but seemingly otherworldly and scary as hell.

"I don't know how to teach kids." John had offered lamely- he'd never been able to lie to Ororo. She was the one who had always scared him, simply because she could see right through him to what lay beneath.

"It will come with practice, I promise." She said, little wrinkles appearing around her striking eyes as she regarded him, a bit of warmth slipping into the hard demeanor she tried to test him with. They hadn't parted on the best terms, and he felt a little guilty.

"We didn't bring you back for your teaching skills." Ororo had said as she turned to drift back down the hallway, leaving only the feeling of electricity in the air and the weight of her words on John's chest.

There was also Hank, who had poked and prodded at him like he were some test animal. He'd said it was a physical, but John knew he did a few more things than just that. He didn't ask questions, though, to the surprise of both of them. The big, blue man had barely changed since John had seen him last, save for the few silver hairs that shimmered on his skin when he moved. He was still the same socially-awkward, intelligent man John had never really understood.

And then there was Emma Frost.

John had felt his hair stand on end when he'd first met her outside the gates of the school, leaning against the beautiful white posts like she belonged there, outfitted in racy white. She was unimpressed by his arrival, and she showed it. It seemed like the only real emotion she exhibited. She'd looked him over, and John had felt naked as can be, feeling her eyes take in the physical and her prying telepathic fingers feel for the rest. He pushed back, just as he'd once been taught, and saw her lip curl, a growl testing her ruby mouth.

"That's not a good first impression, Mr. Allerdyce." She'd hissed, her words just as icy as her demeanor. He wondered dimly if she'd refuse to let him in, wondered if it were all a ploy to get him to humiliate himself outside his old home. But she'd opened the gates without a touch of her hand, simply walking in without him, her cape flying behind her. He let himself in.

Other than those three, he had yet to meet the other members of the team, surprisingly. He was a bit disappointing- he fancied himself important enough to warrant a welcome party, but perhaps not.

He'd met Pete Wisdom, but surely that piece of work wasn't on the team. If there were a god somewhere out there, Wisdom would not be on the X-Men team.

On the third day of his new life, he'd found a note in his room, slid under the door. He was a little pissed at first. Leaving notes? What were they, twelve again? But he thought that he'd be even more pissed if they entered without him there.

John sat on his bed, pushing his shoes off his feet as he slipped a thumb under the envelope seal.

Mr. Allerdyce,

We meet in the War Room at 9 pm. Do be punctual.

The letter was signed with a kiss, blood-red with the addition of a thick lipstick. John didn't even have to question who had wrote it, and he turned his nose up at the thought of Emma Frost kissing his invitation, just to further mock him.

But it was interesting, a mark of something new, if he did say so himself. He'd never been a true member of the X-Men, and though the idea would've been revolting to old John Allerdyce, the new idea was intriguing. And the War Room- he'd only heard about it in whispers as a teenager attending Xavier's School.

He and Bobby Drake had tried to hunt it down one night when they were twelve, a flashlight and a scrap of notebook paper with a sloppily drawn map between them. They'd been found almost immediately by Logan, and they had screamed, both boys terrified at the sight of the older man finding them in the act.

John smiled a little despite himself.

John was worried he wouldn't actually be able to find the War Room in the first place.

He wandered down the hallways of the underground station, poking his head through doorways and adventuring down stairwells. The whole place was dark, lighting up and humming with electricity only once he'd set his foot in the areas. John wondered if he'd been set up, a flame of anger rushing through him.

Would you get kicked out of the X-Men for not being able to find their missions room? Was that a prerequisite?

Maybe this were some higher being telling him he was wrong, that the X-Men were exactly like they'd been when he fought against them- useless, spineless mutants trying to bring equality and peace to a world that wanted (and needed) anything but. He began to feel the doubt seep in, settle into his bones.

Are you lost, Mr. Allerdyce?

The voice was mocking, haughty and amused. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.

I'm only here to lend you a hand, boy. One more floor down and through the blue hallway, dear.

John bit his lip, deciding not to give her a clear response to that. He was pissed she was slipping into his head again, just another way they'd completely shit on his personal space, but without her help he probably wouldn't be able to find his way through the maze of underground.

Don't worry. I won't tell Kitty.

John let a few choice words float in her direction, trudging down the hallway.

He found his way eventually, though his arrival made him wish he hadn't found his way.

They'd all looked at him, seven sets of eyes training themselves upon him in an instance. They each had varying looks in his direction, each set of eyes thinking a different set of thoughts about the situation. But John still felt vulnerable, naked and bare, as if the universe was strongly pushing him in the complete opposite direction of this team. He should've walked straight out the doors when he got the chance, left all of this behind him.

But that recurring feeling had slipped into him again- that feeling of being a voyeur in his own body, just a passenger along for the ride. What the hell was he even doing, agreeing to come back to the school. And so he stayed quiet, hoping they would pass over him quickly.

Instead, he looked back at them.

There was Emma, lounging in one of the leather chairs that adorned the tech room, in her startling white attire. She grinned as if she were a cat that had caught a bird, gleefully watching it writhe in pain. John saw a hand attached to her shoulder, and he followed it up to the body it belonged to.

Oh. That was a surprise.

It was the boy-scout himself, Scott Summers. John couldn't mask the amazed look on his features, the raised brows. He was very similar to how he'd been while John was attending the school, but much harder, more rigid. He no longer observed, but instead glared, his mouth in a tense line. And the fact that he was at Emma's side, a loyal dog- it made John sick. This was not the X-Men he remembered, and he wasn't sure whether to be glad or worried.

Behind them was Hank, who had barely given John a second glance; he was tinkering with the screens on the wall behind Emma, seemingly in his own world. Storm was beside him, looking at John; her eyes were not cold and prying, like the others, but warm in their own way. To any other, it would seem strict.

And next to them, Logan. John hadn't seen him in forever, and he knew that it was probably a good thing that he hadn't. He was the same, unaged, but his eyes were sharp. John assumed it was probably because of the fact that he was looking at Pyro, at what he had once been. He didn't blame him.

A shock of blue fur next to the Wolverine caught John's attention, and he second-guessed his own eyes. It was Kurt Wagner, yes, but he'd grown up immensely. He was no longer wiry or skinny, but instead a creature of lean muscle, his hair a curly mess atop his head, his features sharp and handsome. John was a little surprised- give him normal skin, he thought, and he'd be hot. Chop off the tail, too.

And standing close to him was Kitty Pryde, not masking the hate in her narrowed, golden eyes. She was leaning against the computer desk behind her, her arms crossed across her chest. She was dressed much more modestly today, but still nice- a simple sweater and dark pair of jeans, both of which hugged her figure. John, feeling much more like himself, quickly raked his eyes down her body, much to her distaste.

"Ah, our last member." Emma said cooly, a knowing grin on her face as she crossed one long leg over the other. John was pleasantly surprised at that revelation- he was fine with being last, making them all waste their precious time on him, but even better than that was the fact that Pete Wisdom wasn't there. John couldn't help but sport a cocky, amused grin at that thought.

"So we can finally begin." Scott announced, gritting his teeth together. The boy scout was still a hard-ass after all these years, John mused. The mutants snapped out of their previous actions- most of which included gawking at the new member- and instead moved to the long, shiny table that sat in the middle of the War Room.

It really was an impressive room- the walls were lined with screens of varying sizes, most of the technology kinds that John couldn't even begin to process. There were headsets and weapons placed carefully around the room, most of them being completely bizarre, non-Earth items. John had never had an interest in the affairs of aliens- hell, he could barely keep up or deal with the affairs of humans- but the new technology around him was suddenly very interesting. He couldn't even begin to understand most of the items.

Kitty probably could, he thought before he could stop himself. She was always good with those things.

He took a seat at the far end of the table, finding himself between Kurt and Storm. John felt awkward in the situation. He used to revel in the feeling of not fitting in, the gratification of being better than the spineless X-Men. Now, sitting among those he'd grown up with, the ones who had taught him, the ones he had abandoned without a second thought, the ones he had hurt in many ways- it made John Allerdyce feel guilt for the first time in years.

"I'm not going to sugar-coat what we've found out, because I assume most of you have heard the rumors already." Scott told them grimly, clasping his hands behind his back as he stood in front of the room. His shoulders were tense, his mouth in a straight, tight line.

"There has been another cure made, but this one has been…. proven." He announced, spitting out the words, his opinion very clear.

John couldn't believe what he was hearing- it was like a punch to his gut, the breath stolen from his lungs. The last time they'd had this problem, life was drastically different; he was a whole different being. And the last time, it had been a dud. He'd heard in whispers over the years that it had been revived, the effort multiplied. But there was never any real, hard facts, and he assumed that maybe the world had began to accept that there shouldn't be a cure. But now it was all too real, no longer whispers.

He felt sick.

"I know you probably have many questions, but we know little to nothing about it so far, except the fact that it's far more of a risk than what was developed years ago. " Scott said, motioning to himself and Dr. McCoy. The room was a funny contradiction to his statement- no questions had been asked, instead the mutants around John seemed motionless, almost uncaring in shock. He wanted to shake them, get them just as angry and pissed as he was.

"It's in extremely early stages. But it's already been proven to be a huge risk. There were two mutants they tested on, two orphans. " Dr. McCoy explained, leaning forward onto the table, his fury frame grazing the tabletop. "One died within days, the other was a 'success', if you could call it that. And that's why we need to interfere."

The room snapped out of it immediately.

"Interfere?" Kurt asked, his brow furrowed and his expression conflicted. "Why must we interfere?"

"Think of how badly this could be manipulated against us, yet again. If it's the real thing this time, it could mean extermination." Emma snapped, her sterling eyes sharp and cold.

"But think about the future it could potentially mean for the mutants with more extreme physical ailments." Kurt responded, his three-fingered hands animated as he talked. His tail twitched behind him, showing his agitation. "I do not wish to take the so-called cure, but I must live my life in total rejection by society. Picture a young child like me growing up in the increasingly hostile world- must he be submitted to all of this? Not even able to live a normal life?"

"I agree that it could be useful, but the test case proves that it's a much stronger, more deadly version of what we've already faced," Kitty added in. "Would you take the chance of dying just for a chance at a life without powers?"

Kurt shook his head, closing his eyes and tapping his fingers on the table. He had taken the news much harder than anyone else at the table, and he seemed to be very passionate on the matter.

"God, with this much power, they could weaponize it against us." Logan said from across the table, surprising everyone with his input. His voice was gruff and low, his eyes cloudy, as if his mind were elsewhere.

"Whatever it could do," Scott said after a moment of silence, fixing the room with hard faces. "We're containing it. Tomorrow night, dress nice. We're going to a ball."


	3. Chapter 3

"A ball?" John scoffed to himself, disgusted at the whole idea. What was a ball supposed to do to help them? What, they'd just go and dance with some anti-mutant fascists and suddenly they'd change their minds? It was like a damn Disney movie, and so Charles Xavier.

He knew they X-Men had a reputation for being too idealistic, but John had thought the ice bitch would've at least vetoed it before it was decided. But nope, they'd thrown the idea out there like it was some genius plan bred by Einstein himself.

And so John had to dress nice and wear a suit, which had displeased him immensely. He couldn't remember the last time he'd worn a suit- probably a funeral of some sort when he was younger. It was a bit tight in the corners, a little too snug for his liking. He must've grown a little.

John was proud, though- he looked great, if he did say so himself. Dressing up like an ass wasn't his thing (he'd leave that to Pete Wisdom), but it looked damn good on him. He smirked, excited to see Kitty's jaw drop.

And she did. But not for the reason he'd been expecting.

"Oh my god, Pyro. Did you really think we'd be going to an anti-mutant ball?" Kitty asked, incredulous; she was grinning wildly, trying desperately to cover her laughter. John scowled, tensing up. How the hell was he supposed to know?

Kitty was instead in a dark leather suit highlighted with yellow leather, hugging her figure snugly. Her hair was tugged into a high, high ponytail, accenting the sharp smirk on her face. John felt a lot of things towards Kitty- especially this new Kitty- but his hatred was undoubtedly the strongest thing.

John had expected her to brush him off, leaving him alone in the hallway, letting him find his own way to the meeting point. Instead, she filed in line at his side as if the past didn't even exist. JOhn tried to hide his surprise under his scowl.

"They're holding the ball at one of their facilities, some sort of celebration at all they're brewing up." Kitty explained, shaking her head at the concept of it all. She talked with her hands, just like she did when they were young. "So we're going to do a little bit of snooping while they're getting drunk."

"You're just going to waltz in?" John scoffed before he could stop himself

"I can walk through walls, asshole." Kitty shot back, pursing her lips as she looked up at him. Her eyes were big, dark, and challenging. "And the X-Men are no longer scared of breaking and entering. Lot has changed since you deserted."

John, in a rare moment of self-control, decided not to comment on the last word.

"Besides, you're not coming in. You're staying in the X-Jet."

"Like hell I am." John stopped, stepping in front of her path. Kitty didn't stop herself and instead ended phasing through half of him before stepping back with a scowl on her face. John shook off the tingly feeling.

"You aren't ready." Kitty said simply, and John saw that look on her face, the seemingly-blank expression- she was enjoying this, the witch. Enjoying getting to put him down, to cutting down his pride. John felt anger well up inside of him.

"You guys need me, though." John insisted, grinding his teeth together.

"That's the thing, Pyro." Kitty hissed, her whole demeanor changing quickly. John hid his shock as she leaned in dangerously. "The X-Men don't need you. Scott doesn't need you, Emma doesn't need you, Logan definitely doesn't need you. And me? I sure as hell don't need you."

She pushed past him, this time not letting herself phase, but instead roughly bumping his arm as she passed.

Kitty was already pissed, and John added the cherry on top of her shitty-day sundae.

She'd fought with Pete that evening before the ball, and it had came to a surprise to both of them. They hadn't been officially 'dating' for a long time, since Kitty still shuddered to call it that. They had their fling when she still had ties to Excalibur, and it was supposed to end there. But instead it had continued when he had so graciously offered himself as a sort of bridge between American and English mutants.

Pete had introduced many young English mutants to the Xavier school, helping a ton of kids who would've had no future without it. It had surprised everyone, including Kitty; Pete Wisdom wasn't usually labelled as a gentleman, much less a hero of sorts. But instead he'd decided to make his permanent residence in the school, with frequent trips to England, and it had all fallen into place for him and Kitty.

But then she'd found something.

It was just a tiny piece of what seemed to be scrap metal, but Kitty looked closer. She had extensive history with technology, and even she couldn't immediately identify what it was. It would've been just a piece of trash to an untrained eye, but Kitty knew it had to be more. It was too artfully made, a bit too glossy. She found a small indention on the back, a place to press like a button.

And worse, she'd found it in Pete's sock drawer, where she had been looking for a pair of shorts that had gone missing.

Kitty made a rash decision at the time, overcome with paranoia.

She'd let the little piece phase through her hand, falling to the ground. And it short-circuited, sparking slightly as it broke. It was something alright.

Kitty had slipped it back into his sock drawer, tucking it into a pair of socks he rarely wore. She entertained her thoughts instead with the mission tonight, but the thoughts wouldn't leave her mind, hiding under the surface. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was much more than it seemed.

He'd came into their room that night as she was suiting up, tugging at the dark red tie around his neck. His hair was slightly messy, the bags under his eyes a little darker than normal. Kitty had brushed it off as just a side-effect of his job; he'd been over in England the past few days, and just got back the previous night.

"Still recovering from that jet-lag?" Kitty asked, brushing her hair back into a long ponytail in front of their bathroom mirror. When he didn't respond, she peeked her head back into their room.

"Pete?" Kitty asked again. He was sitting on their bed, his head dropped into his palms. She discarded her brush, quickly taking a seat beside him. "What's wrong?"

"If I may speak my mind." Pete started, and Kitty felt her stomach drop. Had he found whatever it was she destroyed? Was it worse than she thought?

"I don't think it's wise of you all to go to that facility tonight." He finished, eyeing her warily. Kitty felt a little betrayed despite herself, narrowing her eyes at his criticism. She dropped his hand.

"Pete, this cure is serious, much worse than last time." She argued. Pete sighed, shaking his head; she felt like a child again, like their age difference was much worse than they acted.

"And imagine the consequences if you're caught. The cure will only be pushed more, to stop these dangerous mutants that can sneak into everywhere." Pete responded, his voice tired and wary. Kitty stood up, looking down on him. Her body was tense, her fists clenched. What authority did he have, anyways? She wasn't supposed to tell him in the first place, and here he was, acting like he was the leader of the X-Men.

"They're going to use it against us anyways." Kitty shot back, shaking her head furiously. The way he was looking at her, like she was some subordinate child- it royally pissed her off.

"It's a bloody stupid idea. I don't want to see you hurt because of it."

It was the thought that mattered, that he cared for her- but Kitty ignored that fact. Hearing him condemn their plans like that, like they were just some adolescent group of mutants when compared to his past with MI-6, it brought her blood to a boil.

"You don't know shit, Pete." Kitty hissed, and she had turned away from him, not able to look him in the eyes at that moment. She'd stormed from the room, making sure phase straight through the door in hopes of leaving him that much sooner.

That whole exchange had only furthered her foul mood, and then she'd given John a chance, feeling a little bit of pity for his outsider status. Kitty had no reason to give him the time of day, considering their past, what he did not even five years ago. She'd promised she wouldn't forgive him for that. But talking to him a little wouldn't kill her- they were teammates now, technically.

But John being John had to go piss her off, remind her why she disliked him in the first place.

When they boarded the X-Jet later, she'd ignored him, instead let him be thrown to the sharks.

"Nice suit, fire-boy." Logan had said, a rough smirk on his features. Emma had even laughed, in that cruel, sharp way she always did. It was amusing, and Kitty loved how embarrassed he was, trying to hide it with a rough exterior.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know." John had scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest after they strapped into the seats. Kitty rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Idiot.

"You ready, half-pint?" Logan asked her, shifting in his seat beside her. He seemed completely at ease, which surprised her even more. It wasn't too much of a stretch to say he was eager to stretch his claws, exercise his bones; he longed for a little bit of violence, and he'd likely get that tonight. It wasn't going to be a clean investigation, they both knew.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Kitty shot back.

She wasn't ready, not in the least bit, she'd find out later.

John was sulking in the X-Jet, grinding his teeth together. He had to be driving Hank crazy by now, since the blue mutant could help but shift around in his seat.

To try and mend the situation, he reached out to John a little.

"It's just because you haven't trained with them yet." Hank told him, raising a furry blue eyebrow in John's direction. He just crossed his arms across his chest, idly playing with his lighter, watching the flame dance in front of him.

"A few weeks of training, you'll be good."

"What? Weeks? You've gotta be shitting me, old man." John responded, startled out of his tantrum. Hank gave a nervous, apologetic smile.

"This team, they're a tight machine. You can't just add new parts like that." He offered, shrugging at John.

"God, that's too long." John responded angrily. He was confined to the X-Jet with the doctor, going completely out of his mind. The rest of the team had left over an hour ago, parachuting out of the X-Jet like it was no big deal. That was one thing John wasn't sure he could deal with- jumping from the X-Jet. But he supposed if that was the key to letting him toast a few people, he'd gladly do it.

"Take notes, kid." Logan had told him, that stupid half-grin on his features, and if he wasn't such a damn terrifying guy, John would've flipped him off. But John liked keeping his fingers attached to his body.

What was even worse was that Hank and John barely had any contact with the team except for a few mics attached to their suits. So what was going on was practically a mystery to both of them. John was happy that he wasn't the only one left out of the action, even though he'd rather not be lumped in with big, blue, and furry.

"I've found a big complex within the facility."

Kitty's hushed voice came through the speakers of the X-Jet, and Hank was quick to respond back, taking his focus away from the angry fire-starter. John perked up, leaning forward in his seat.

"A complex? The facility didn't seem large enough." Hank responded back, the curiosity in his voice coming through. His brows were knitted together, worry clear on his features.

"It's huge." Kitty said in awe.

"Phase through it, see what's inside." Scott's voice came through on the comm link, his instructions rushed and eager.

"Getting to it, calm down." Kitty said back, irritated.

"Fuck," She hissed back, and John could practically hear the pain in her voice.

"Kid?" Logan asked nervously over the comms- he wasn't with Kitty, instead guarding the hallway she'd further explored. It was the only entrance into the deeper level of the facility, or so Hank had guessed. Apparently, their initial scans of the underground facility had been incorrect with the complex.

"It's adamantium." Kitty gasped back.

The comms link was immediately a rush of different voices, all talking over one another.

"What the fuck?" Logan.

"Surely not." Scott.

"That's gotta be worth billions, if not trillions..." Emma.

"Katzchen? Are you alright?" Kurt.

"Shut up, all of you." Kitty said, breathing deeply over the link.

That sounded just like Kitty, John mused.

"It's even more interesting inside, if you can believe it." She said grimly.

There was a sudden commotion, and John rushed up to the controls, coming up behind Hank. He looked over the myriad of buttons, finding the comm links; it was Kitty's comm, the button lit up, showing that the noise was on her end.

"Sorry 'bout that. Guards and all." Kitty panted back through the link.

"I don't mean to press you, Kitty, but we should try to wrap this all up in the next twenty minutes or so." Hank said politely, even though his body language betrayed him. There was sweat on his forehead, and his features were painted with worry. John admired him a little- he was anything but cool in the moment, but his voice was calm and collected, trying to help his team stay clear.

"We're clear down here, but not sure how much longer." Scott said, referring to his and Emma's vantage point at the opposite end of the facility, marking an entrance.

"The yard is clear, for the most part." Kurt shot back.

"I only need ten." Kitty responded.

The comm link went quiet for the next few moments, only the quiet sound of Kitty's footsteps.

She paused.

"Dead end, but there's another room." Another pause, except for Kitty's sharp intake of breath. "God, this wall- it's adamantium, but even thicker. I don't know if I can phase through this much without passing out-"

"Don't push yourself too far." Kurt warned.

"Is there nothing else?" Scott asked.

"There's a handprint scanner." Kitty said.

There was another pregnant pause, and finally Hank spoke up, seemingly out-of-character with his impatience.

"Perhaps the guards from earlier, Kitty?" Hank offered.

"I know, but…. I can't carry one of them this far. They're gigantic." Kitty said, disappointment clear in her voice. Logan spoke up after a moment, his voice grim. John listened carefully, his interest peaking.

"Well, I got an idea, Kit, but you aren't gonna like it."

Kitty had seen a lot of violence in her life, so much she had assumed she was mostly desensitized to it. She'd seen the worst of humanity already, the torture and the pain people could inflict on one another. But as soon as Logan spoke up through the comm link in her ear, she felt her stomach turn over in her body.

"The things I do for this team." Kitty said softly through her link, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. The team was silent over the links, but Logan offered up a small, gruff laugh.

She continued her work with one of her knives, sawing through the hard bone of a dead guard's wrist. There was blood everywhere, staining her hands, her lap. She swallowed down the urge to throw up, looking away from it all for a minute.

"I don't mean to rush you, Kitty, but-" Scott said.

"I got it, just let but finish mutilating this guy." Kitty said, not breathing through her nose. Soon she had a large hand in her grasp, blood flowing freely from the appendage. She wrinkled her nose, trying to ignore the fact that she had a real, fresh hand in her grasp.

"Should I keep it as a souvenir?" She offered, calming her nerves.

No response. Such a tough crowd.

Kitty tried to clean as much blood from the palm as she could, laying it on the tiny scanner. She prayed, hoping it would grant her clearance. She had this pull to go inside, some part deep inside her telling her to go in. It was both alluring and frightening, and she knew she had to go in.

She didn't tell the others that, though.

The doors slid open quietly, a bit anticlimactic.

Kitty found herself instead facing four large, burly guards, even more formidable than the one whose dismembered hand she currently held.

She phased immediately, their shouts bringing forth bullets from their even bigger guns. Kitty fell into action, it all coming natural to her, like exercising a forgotten limb. She grabbed one guard, pushing him into the adamantium wall; he shouted in pain, no doubt experiencing the fiery sting over his whole body, the same one she'd been through.

Without a second thought, Kitty let go of him, letting the material phase straight though his head. He stopped struggling, his body going limp in an instant.

One of the guards cursed at her, his eyes going wide; she took the opportunity to throw one of her knives in his direction, nailing the side of his arm. He dropped his gun just as another guard hit her side roughly, taking her off guard.

Kitty went flying to the ground, the air escaping her lungs. She didn't even have time to phase, instead her whole body slamming to the ground. Her brain rattled in her skull, and she heard the faint sound of her teammates trying to contact her through the comm link.

She felt a kick land to her ribs, and she was so disoriently that she didn't even phase at first. Kitty felt pain spark through her body, sharp and cutting.

Kitty forced it out of her mind, phasing straight through the guard above her; she stood up behind him, a snarl on her lips as he turned around, her hands in fists, ready to attack.

But instead, the guard just stared above her head, completely ignoring Kitty.

She didn't have much time to be intrigued or confused, for her questions were quickly answered.

Kitty felt a body move through her as she phased instinctively, feeling the familiar tingle of another human form go through her. But this kind was different, had a different feel- it was cold and cutting. She hadn't felt it in years.

The metal being knocked the guard from his feet, sending him flying; his neck snapped like nothing more than doll, crumbling to the wall across the room. There was too much pent up energy in his form, too much revenge in his body.

Kitty fell, her knees scraping the ground harshly. Her legs didn't work.

She wondered if she were dreaming, if there were perhaps a telepath in her head, forcing her to see this moment, to feel these emotions. She cursed that telepath.

She thought the moment couldn't get any worse, any more conflicting and confusing and all around painful, until she saw another form emerge from across the room, rising from another guard's lifeless form.

It was tall, strong and pale, a Amazonian woman with long, bright blonde hair. She glided over to Kitty's form, taking her place by her brother, as if it were any other day, any other circumstance than the one Kitty was forced to experience.

It was all too much. Kitty let out a choked sob, the grief in her stomach rising to her heart, clenching painfully.

"Kitty? What's going on, Kit?" Logan asked nervously, his tone sharp.

"Kitty, say something." Scott said urgently.

Kitty barely heard them, registering their voices like they were just a dream, far away. None of it felt real, like a reality she wasn't actually a part of. All that mattered were the two siblings in front of her, both with horrified expressions on their faces, yet still frighteningly blank and emotionless.

"You're both-" Kitty said with a shuddered breath, her voice shaking with tears. "-You're both dead. I spread your ashes together- in Russia, like you wanted- I saw your funeral I sent your letters I told your family-"

"Katya." Illyana said, her voice frighteningly small and broken for her formidable being. She dropped to her knees next to the woman, reaching out to touch her hair, feel her skin, see if it was real.

Kitty phased, letting the hand go through.

"You're not real." Kitty sobbed, her voice breaking.

"Are we dead? Is it over?" Piotr asked, his voice detached and strange as he gazed upon the two women in front of him. Kitty cried harder, crumbling into herself on the floor, her body limp.

"We're coming, Kit. Just a few minutes." Logan's voice said quietly on the link, hearing the exchange clearly.

Kitty sobbed.


End file.
